Shallow Puddles
Blurred Images (An Alzheimer's nightmare)
Gazing out the window
At the snow, spread on the ground
She could scarcely remember
Vaguely recalling back the sounds
*
Of silly giggles and footsteps
Tiny toes traipsing in the halls
Christmas tree scents and secrets
Excited hopes of Santa Clause
**
Sleepy bedtime kisses
Eyelashes flutter on her cheeks
The anticipation and sweet wishes
The magic building up for weeks
***
Her attention returns to the window
A blurred image appears, peering back
A confusing, incomplete picture
Now covered with soft wrinkles and cracks
****
Enjoying the fires glow
With loved ones gathered around
Hypnotically, watching the new snow
Pirouette, softly, to the ground
*****
Glowing lights in shallow puddles
Send her cascading through her dreams
The deep emotions are subtle
As she envisions every scene
******
But all she finds are remnants
Of a life that she once knew
Faded photos and old ornaments
In the sad shades and hues of blue
*******
She feels a warmth sweep through her body
Her fingertips gently caressed
It’s a Christmas holiday party
And she’s the honored guest
********
The lifetime she remembered
She finds, she’s living still
When she climbs out from inside her
You wouldn’t know that she was ill
*********
They’ll celebrate while she’s with them
Making old memories, new
Until the prison returns again
And she gets stuck in that room
**********
Alive, but not living
In a crowd, still, all alone
With the image in the window
The one that she rarely even knows
About the Creator
Kelli Sheckler-Amsden
Telling stories my heart needs to tell <3 life is a journey, not a competition
If you like what you read, feel free to leave a tip, I would love some feedback
Find me on twitter @kelli7958958
or facebook
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from Kelli Sheckler-Amsden and writers in Poets and other communities.
Letter to our Queer & Trans Youth
Hey, you. I thought I’d start this letter by telling you a little about myself, just so you know who you’re dealing with. I’m an emotional dad, father to three amazing kids who we met through the foster care system, and whose presence in our lives has really transformed my sense of responsibility to the communities that surround us. The connections we’ve made with one another, with our extended families, and with the communities where we live and look for belonging have catapulted us into this whirlwind of emotional tumult which, while not easy by any stretch of the measure, has also been remarkably healing. I realize ours is really only a one-sided chosen family, since our kids didn’t get to choose to live here, but I’d like to think that they did choose to let us love them, which allowed them to grow to love us. And I think that’s where I want to go with this letter- to a place where you can find belonging and healing- even if the pathway there may be peppered with some emotional tumult.
By F Cade Swanson3 days ago in Pride
Comments (5)
Alive but not living. That line was just so heartbreaking 🥺
How often have I witnessed these words in the flesh through my years of ministry? You have captured the sense of it so achingly here, my friend.
Wow.Beautifully heart wrenching. Alzheimer’s is so horrifically insidious. We are stolen from ourselves and from those who love us. There…, yet gone. Love it.
This is beautiful, and relatable. The moments of clarity are truly treasures.
Beautifully written, Kelli, and spot-on. Alzheimer's is such a cruel disease, and those moments when the door opens are truly special.